


Evil Author Day - Betrayal

by Maurauve



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Death Eaters, EAD, EAD2021, F/F, Facebook: The Fairest of the Rare, Harry Potter rarepair, Magical Petunia Evans Dursley, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), POV Narcissa Black Malfoy, POV Petunia Evans Dursley, Rarepair, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, death eater petunia evans, evilauthorday202
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maurauve/pseuds/Maurauve
Summary: Petunia does the only thing she can think of when Lily marries James and the Dark Lord's wrath is directed towards them: beg for the Dark Mark and pray that she can make a difference.
Relationships: Petunia Evans Dursley/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Evil Author Musings





	Evil Author Day - Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> Evil Author's Day! 
> 
> I am sorry in advance!!
> 
> This story has been playing out in my brain for months. I'm obsessed with it. It's in my soul. I am encased.
> 
> I hope you can see why.

“Please,” Narcissa crooned, cupping Petunia’s face gently. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. You can still walk away now, you can still-”

Her fingers were so soft against Petunia’s skin, and she almost knelt into the familiar feeling. 

Petunia cleared her throat and stepped back, pulling Narcissa’s hands from her face and holding her at a distance. 

“She’s my sister, Narcissa. I don’t have a choice” Petunia held her shoulders perfectly straight, perfectly composed. 

She’d practiced this. She’d practiced so hard. Narcissa hadn’t. 

“She’s exactly why you _do_ have a choice,” Narcissa emphasized, her chest heaving and bright splotches of red appeared across the soft skin of her breasts. “You promised me, Tuney, you promised me you’d run when I told you to go.” 

Narcissa held tightly to Petunia’s fingers, holding her just as firmly as Petunia had held her as she now tried to pull away. It was so dark, and she’d almost gotten lost in Narcissa’s large home when she left her room to wander Manor Black. It would be her last night to do so before everything changed. 

“Leave.” Narcissa pleaded, tightening her grip on Petunia’s hands. “Leave tonight, I’ll help you. I can get you so far away they’ll never find you. I’ll take you where you can be safe, and when things settle down, you can come back.”

Petunia closed her eyes and pursed her lips, willing her feet to keep her from swaying.

“She just got married.” Petunia whispered. “She’ll never leave Potter now.”

Narcissa’s eyes flashed, and she dropped her hands to her sides as though she’d been stung. 

“You’re going to give up everything for her. All of it for someone who hates you.”

Petunia looked down as Narcissa stepped back, her shoulders starting to falter. 

“You have sisters. You should understand why I’m doing this,” Petunia pleaded, her voice low and sore. “Please, Cissa. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“You’re a bloody idiot, Tuney, you know that?” Narcissa spat her words, disgust poisoning her tongue. “A miserable little mudblood, that’s what you are. You’re a selfish bitch, a foul self-righteous shrew.” Narcissa’s eyes twinkled when Petunia took a step away from her. “Listen here, _darling_.” Her voice curled, “It doesn’t matter if you’re fucking the Dark Lord nightly. Lily broke the rules, rejected his offer, and just married one of his most vocal opposers. He’ll never let her stay alive, don’t you see? It’s all been a trick, and you’ve been so desperate for your pitiful family’s approval that you’ll drop to your knees before the Dark Lord and get yourself killed, and it won’t even mean something. You’ll just be another dead mudblood.”

Petunia looked up to Narcissa, whose carefully styled hair was starting to wire and charge. She could see the faint sizzle in the strands closest to her face, could see them float from her to stand on end, radiating rage from deep inside her.

With a cautious hand, Petunia lifted a finger to Narcissa’s chin. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Petunia smiled sadly, her voice threatening to crack and break. “It won’t work.”

Narcissa’s eyes blinked back tears, her chin rising to the witch in front of her.

“You know she’ll never forgive you for this. You know you’ve betrayed her, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You know you’ve betrayed me too?” Narcissa asked, her voice cold.

Petunia took a deep breath. “I do.”

“And you know I’ll never forgive you?”

Petunia looked up to meet Narcissa’s eyes, her own starting to water. She’d practiced this 30 times, but she hadn’t expected to feel so much, she hadn’t expected to feel so little. 

“I understand,” she said clearly, her shoulders straightening back, and she watched Narcissa turn on her heels and disappear down the dark hallway.

* * *

_That petty horrid bitch._

Narcissa stormed down the hallway, immediately casting a nonverbal concealment charm on herself. 

_Who did she even think she was?_

Everything was ruined, Narcissa was sure of it. She’d planned everything so carefully. The extraction, the safehouse, the wards. She’d even packed a fucking bag. She’d figured it all out in the hopes that Petunia wouldn’t be such a sentimental fool, and yet there she was. Preparing for the Mark. 

It was vile, really. 

The thought of her soft skin marred by such atrocious ideas. It wasn’t like Petunia would be forced to take the Mark. In fact, if Narcissa was correct, she was quite sure that the Dark Lord would be repulsed by the idea of a mudblood wearing his sigil. He’d be so insulted that he’d kill her right there on the floor, and then what?

She could hear her bare feet loudly against the cold marble flooring, the padding growing faster as she broke into a sprint toward her chamber.

It wasn’t fair, she decided as she pulled open the heavy door and closed it behind her.

It was utterly despicable, she grumbled as she tore her hair out of whatever _french fucking chignon_ some elf had prepared for her earlier that day. What use would it do now? She wouldn’t have anything to prove anymore.

_“You have sisters. You should understand why I’m doing this.”_

Fuck you, Petunia. 

She had sisters, but both of them had left her alone in a manor now crawling with whatever upper crust the Dark Lord had sought out. Not even her parents had the foresight to ward her room from the Dark Lord’s visitors. Her house, her safety, _violated_ for a manic half-bood. She bet most of his followers had no idea they were chasing after a halfbreed. She imagined the Dark Lord’s face as she spilled his little secret all over the pretty marble floors of the drawing room. 

Maybe they’d tear him apart. 

Maybe she’d get a piece.


End file.
